


Rhys + Jack + Jack + Jack + Jack + Jack + Jack = LOVE

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Atlas CEO Rhys, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Rhys brings Jack back to life, but it gets complicated, first chapter is T-rated, now there are six of them!, second will have smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: The first thing that Rhys saw when he appeared in the virtual space that Jack’s AI supposedly lived in was a poker table. With six figures sitting around it.His first,terrifyingthought was that Jack wasn’t the only entity trapped in his eye. That along with him, there were other AIs. Or was he playing poker with all the malware and spyware that Rhys accidentally downloaded throughout his career at Hyperion? The thought that Jack passed his time in eternity by playing cards with a trojan that downloaded all nudes from Rhys’ cloud and stole money from his bank account was so absurd,hysterical, that he snorted.All six figures turned to him, six identical blue faces frowning at the intruder.A polyamory fic where Rhys tries to bring Jack back to life, only to discover that the AI has created six copies of itself that are each a separate person now and refuse to merge back into one. So, now he has six Jacks. And he is not complaining! (Completely inspired by brainstorming on the Rhack server.)
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Rhys/six Handsome Jacks
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	Rhys + Jack + Jack + Jack + Jack + Jack + Jack = LOVE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spacefall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacefall/gifts).



> This was mostly inspired by [Spacefall's](https://twitter.com/sfbl_) and [persephoneggsy's](https://twitter.com/persephoneggsy) brainstorming. I just made a story out of their idea. There is not much of my input in the first part. :|
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Smut is in the second chapter.

While the memories of what was between them while they travelled across Pandora remained clear and warm in his mind, the awful betrayal faded into a distant nightmare. Rhys was a weak man. Of course, he couldn’t just leave the past behind. Not when the memories of lonely nights spent chatting with a blue hologram felt so warm, not when the imaginary touches felt so real, not when the love-stuck expression on Jack’s face felt so honest. Whatever possessed the AI on Helios, it wasn’t the Jack Rhys learned to know during months on Pandora.

He made a decision – which, admittedly, wasn’t something he should be allowed to do – and got to work. Under the premise that cloning technology will sell like crazy, Rhys funded the Phoenix project while working on the side on the necessary interface technology. In less time that should be possible but more that he would like, the project yielded great results, cloning a braindead body perfect for his purposes. Brain will be mostly replaced by the interface anyway. All he needed now was to tell Jack the good news – he’s coming back, and it will be awesome.

He also had to make sure that Jack is not a crazy, blood lusting AI anymore, that he is, well, a normal AI. What he was before.

For that purpose, Rhys plugged the old ECHOeye into a similar interface like the one they would be using to get Jack into his new body. (Okay, it was _scraps_ ; he used scraps, unused pieces and trash to connect to the old eye. It’s called _recycling_ , not laziness.) It allowed him to project himself into the space that Jack lived in. He wasn’t sure how time worked in there, so he set a failsafe to pull him out in thirty minutes.

The first thing that Rhys saw when he appeared in the virtual space that Jack’s AI supposedly lived in was a poker table. With six figures sitting around it.

His first, _terrifying_ thought was that Jack wasn’t the only entity trapped in his eye. That along with him, there were other AIs. Or was he playing poker with all the malware and spyware that Rhys accidentally downloaded throughout his career at Hyperion? The thought that Jack passed his time in eternity by playing cards with a trojan that downloaded all nudes from Rhys’ cloud and stole money from his bank account was so absurd, _hysterical_ , that he snorted.

All six figures turned to him, six identical blue faces frowning at the intruder.

“Uhmm, hey!” the Atlas CEO greeted nervously, fighting the urge to take a step back. “I… Jack? Uhm… you look… different… Shattered, ha ha… Uhm…” he stuttered, eyes flicking between each copy of Jack, trying to guess which one was the one he was looking for. He hoped that it wasn’t the one who was currently dealing, because that hologram scowled at him with so much hate that he wanted to perish.

Nobody answered his stupid pun, but three of the Jacks rose from their seats. One of them muttered that it was impossible and walked towards him with his arm raised, fingers inching towards Rhys’ face to touch while the cyborg eyed them warily. When they made contact, it sent a tingling wave of feedback through Rhys’ body. It wasn’t like a real touch, not by far. It felt like static, but it was apparently real enough for the AI because he gasped, pulling his hand back only to press both palms against Rhys’ chest, feeling him.

“You’re really here,” he said, disbelief in his voice. “How? Why? How long has it—? Rhys, why are you here?” He seemed frantic, as if he was aware of the timeout Rhys had set up.

“I…” Rhys began slowly, eyes still flicking between the clones. All of them were on their feet now, staring at him. “I came here to…” he tried to explain, squirming under all those glances. Then he remembered that, technically, he is the one in charge here, so he decided to ask a question instead. “Jack, who are all those… other Jacks?” he gestured towards them.

“Uhh,” it was Jack’s turn to squirm. He took a step back and scratched the back of his head nervously, chuckling. “Well, that’s awkward,” he said. “When I figured I’ll be stuck here forever, I tried to hack into the eye to get _anything_ that could make it more pleasurable. Or, well, first I tried to escape, but that wasn’t happening, so… I created five copies of myself?”

“You created?” Rhys asked, confirming his theory that this is the Jack he is looking for.

“Well,” one of the clones spoke up, and it was unnerving that he sounded exactly like the other Jack. “We all kinda did. There is no _original_ if you’re looking for that. We all have the same memories from before.”

“So, you’re one,” Rhys stated, looking at the speaking clone questioningly.

“Well, no,” another clone denied. This one was now sitting on the poker table, right in the middle, causing the pile of chips to mix in with other two piles behind him. Rhys noted, puzzled, that some of the piles were much bigger than others. Logically, all of the Jacks should be equally good at this game.

“After some time,” the Jack in front of him spoke, and from the tone of his voice the cyborg immediately knew that five years for Rhys were the same long five years for the AI in the eye, “we all adopted different personalities. We aren’t the same person.”

“Take this maniac,” another Jack spoke right next to Rhys, causing the younger man to jump and almost yelp. He looked to the right, only to be directed to look at the Jack who was previously dealing, who was still scowling. “He hates everything, wants everyone dead, he only knows two languages and that is complaining and death threats. While I haven’t made a single death threat since I, you know, threatened to kill you when you least expect it.”

The ease with which the clone reminded Rhys of that fateful day sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head, blinked a few times, and then looked at the Jack next to him again. “Why do you keep him around if he is always like that, then?” he asked curiously.

“Nah, he’s not that bad!” the Jack in front of him said. “He’s just a big softie who wants cuddles all the time. Aren’t you?” he cooed at the scowling clone, who snorted and flipped him off. “Yes, you are,” the AI cooed. Then he turned back to Rhys. “So, you haven’t answered my question. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… It’s been years. Why are you here?”

Rhys decided that the best way to go about it was to do it fast, like ripping off a band-aid. A band-aid that he forgot about for five years. Anyway. “I’m able to clone a body for you and transfer your AI into it,” he said so quickly that he was worried the AI wouldn’t understand. Jack frowned, looking thoughtful, so Rhys continued. “I’ve already ran all the tests and stimulations, it will work. I just need to press a few buttons and boom, you’ve got a body.” He looked at the six entities around him and cleared his throat nervously. “Well, I guess you’ll have to somehow… merge all of you into one entity again?”

Jacks contemplated him for a while. Rhys didn’t like the look; he felt like he knew what’s coming.

“No way,” one of them finally declared. “A) I’m not merging with those idiots. And B) we aren’t one person. We have separate memories, personalities, minds, everything.”

“He’s right,” another Jack added. “Merger is not happening, Pumpkin. Do you have six bodies?”

Cold dread swallowed Rhys’ body as he imagined trying to contain more than one Jack. He shook his head frantically, trying to sound firm, but his voice squeaked. “No. No, no, no. No way. That’s _not_ happening. No.”

* * *

**Three days later**

_(Y’all know what happened)_

* * *

The six men in front of him slowly stretched their limbs and looked around, testing their new bodies and eating up all the _beautifully human_ sensory input. Rhys tried not to stare at the men – who were thankfully dressed up now, not naked like they were when they woke up – but it was hard. He kept trying to imagine how life will be now. Will at least one Jack want to stay with him? Or will they all go their separate ways, send him post cards form Aquator once in a while.

Taking comfort in the fact that they would all have to stay for at least a week, just so he could be sure that the bodies will work and the AIs won’t break or something, Rhys picked up the small plastic box he brought here. It was full of leftover ribbons from his seamstress. He told her he wants to colour code his tool cabinet drawers, so she happily gave him the scraps. What he said wasn’t a full lie.

“Okay, so before you get all mixed up, I’ve got this,” he held the box up. “Each one of you gets a ribbon. It’s that, or I write numbers on your forehead with a sharpie,” he added when he received a number of scowls. One of them was meaner and deeper that the rest, and Rhys was sure he knew which clone it was. That one probably didn’t need any ribbon, honestly.

Six sets of mismatched eyes fixed on one particular spot. Rhys followed the gazes, noticing a bright Hyperion yellow ribbon sticking out of the box. He realised his mistake too late, and not even two seconds later, Rhys was bulldozed to the ground by a mass of six broad-shouldered bodies, each one of them shouting that they saw the yellow first.

As soon as some of the weight lifted off of him, Rhys shouted: “No-one’s getting yellow, you big man-babies! Now get off me!”

As they all slowly stood up, grumbling about it being unfair, Rhys took a second to catch his breath. The last Jack to get up offered him a hand, helping him to his feet while reaching into the box with his other hand to pull out an Atlas red ribbon.

 _Maybe_ , Rhys dared to hope, _maybe I won’t be abandoned._

* * *

**Three months later**

* * *

“This is not what I bargained for,” Rhys mumbled to himself as he eyed the new bed. It was almost twice as big as the last one, though it only looked to be slightly bigger. That was because it was _round_. A round bed. What is he, a thirteen-year-old? Why did he agree to get a round bed?

“What are you talking about? This is the dream!” Jack said next to him, promptly jumping on the bed. He didn’t bounce much – Rhys had invested a lot of money into a mattress that wouldn’t bounce every time one of them moved – and so he pouted. “Now I get it, this bed sucks!”

“What are you talking about?” another Jack asked, coming into the room. He, too, proceeded to jump onto the bed, but he sighed in relief when he saw that it didn’t even shake the other clone. “Perfect,” he hummed. “Finally, I get some good fucking sleep!”

“Not today, though,” yet another voice said behind Rhys. The cyborg got a teasing slap on the butt before this clone joined the others on the bed. “C’mon, cupcake! We need to try it out!”

“No, thanks,” the brunet said, sounding a little choked. “I think I want to actually— Ah!” he yelped as strong arms lifted him off the ground. “Put me down, Jack!” he demanded, slapping the clone’s back.

“Only if you guess the colour!” the man answered, running towards the bed with his prey, who fought not to be sick.

“Purple!” Rhys answered without hesitance. The clone stopped, and Rhys could almost see the pout that undoubtedly appeared on his face. Then he was thrown onto the bed, yelping again. “Hey!” he frowned at the clone standing above him.

“What? You didn’t tell me to put you on the ground,” Purple Jack defended himself before joining them on the bed.

Admittedly, even though there were four grown men on the bed now, there was still enough space for another three, or even more. The round shape of the mattress allowed them to lay as they pleased and not in an awkward Jack-Jack-Jack-Rhys-Jack-Jack-Jack sandwich.

As the rest of the household – yes, that is the weird shit Rhys got himself into this time, a _household_ with six Jacks – went to bed and the lights were turned off, wandering hands – too many of them – appeared on Rhys’ body. He got ready to tell them all off, but they didn’t seem intent on ‘christening’ the new bed. In the darkness, it was a little hard to see, but when all movement stopped, Rhys was almost sure that he had been manipulated into the middle of the bed.

Carefully patting around, he located four heads near his and one in his lap. The number of hands on his body was indeterminable. It got like this almost every night – each Jack seemed to want him close, seemed to _like_ him. Now Rhys felt silly for hoping that at least one of them won’t abandon him, because he knew that each one of them wanted him.

The cyborg let out a pleased sigh, and in answer, some of the hands on his body started moving soothingly. Someone – probably Red Jack – muttered good night and then grunted as someone, undoubtedly Black Jack, elbowed him and told him to shut up.

* * *

**Some months later**

* * *

“ _Guyyyyys! Who did the laundry?!_ ”

Rhys winced as Orange Jack hollered his question right next to his ear. “Ugh,” he grunted, rubbing his temple. “That was unnecessary.”

Orange ignored him, focusing on Green who walked into the bedroom. “Me,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Anything you didn’t like about it? You’re welcome to do it yourself.”

“Shut up,” Orange grumbled. “Rhys can’t find his other sock. The blue one with stars. Have you seen it? He looks kinda sad without it,” he gestured towards the younger man offhandedly.

“I do not!” Rhys defended himself but both Jacks raised their brows at him, smirking. He did his best to erase any pout from his face, but it was too late.

“There was only one, I think,” Green hummed, thoughtful. “Preeetty sure.”

“Maybe it’s still in the hamper?” Orange suggested.

“I’ll go check if it fell behind it,” Green declared and left.

Rhys hid his face in his palms. “It’s just a sock, Jack!” he told Orange. “I can take a different pair. You don’t need to launch a search operation for my—”

“Search operation?” Jack’s voice sounded from the bedroom door. “You lost something, Pumpkin? Want me to help you find it?”

Before he could answer that it’s not important at all, Orange beat him to it. “Yeah, we’re looking for the other blue sock. You know which one I mean. Could you look in our dresser?”

“Sure!” the other Jack agreed and headed that way. Rhys caught a glimpse of his wristband – it was Purple.

“What’s going on in here? Y’all having a party without me?” Pink Jack walked into the room, stopping in the middle and eyeing each one of them speculatively. “Why is Rhys sad?” he asked afterwards, frowning at the other two Jacks.

“I’m— I’m fucking not sad, okay?!” Rhys yelled, once more going ignored. He groaned in frustration, which attracted even more attention. Eventually, the whole house was looking for his sock, even Pink who would usually suspect that it’s all just a prank and walk away, locking himself in the study, and Black, who grumbled that Rhys is gonna be late for work which will affect their image once the world inevitably learns that Handsome Jack is back and living with five copies of himself and one self-proclaimed president.

Sitting on the bed, one blue sock in hand, Rhys couldn’t do anything but contemplate his life. He knew for a fact that if he tries to join the search, the situation will reach an inhuman level of absurdity – seven men looking for a sock, _come on!_ – and the ground will swallow them all. And he was also pretty sure that Orange would tell him to stay still or sit down so he wouldn’t get wrinkles on his clothes, because that would make him look bad.

As Handsome Jack times six searched for a sock, some of them insulting the others while doing so, the others too dedicated to their task to notice any hassle, Rhys reminded himself of one thing. Those were the men he loved, turning the house upside down to find his sock.

He wasn’t naïve— Well, okay, he was _very_ naïve, but he didn’t fool himself. There was very little chance he would hear those words from all of the Jacks. Out of all of them, Red was probably the most romantic, or as much as Handsome Jack could be a romantic. If he had those feelings, he might eventually say it. Green as well, though he would only say it after Rhys said it.

There was no chance Black would ever tell him he loved him, if he even was capable of such emotion. Rhys should be ashamed of himself for loving him, but he learned to understand that man and he would fight to death for his right to love him. Orange was kind of what Rhys considered an ideal partner, if a little too cold and removed. Just like Green, he was a great caregiver, making sure all of them are happy.

Purple… probably didn’t have the necessary attention span for feelings. He had too much energy, dozens of ideas and thoughts being nourished in his head at the same time. If Rhys was lucky, a few of those thoughts were about him. And that was all he needed, apparently. In a relationship with six men, Rhys really didn’t have the time and capacity to be needy for anything more.

Another thing that Rhys was sure about was that Pink wouldn’t tell him about those feelings either. If he even allowed himself to love, he wouldn’t admit it, fearing that he will lose the person he loves. Rhys wasn’t really sure where he stood with that man, because he rarely let his guard down. But it was obvious that he cared for Rhys. And he was the one who eventually found the sock, hidden among spare bedsheets.

“Finally!” the young CEO proclaimed. “Can I go to work now?”

“Not yet,” Red shook his head. Before Rhys could ask why, he walked over to him and kissed him gently on the lips. “Now you can,” he said, grinning against his lips.

Rhys was loved.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting).


End file.
